Stormy Weather
by jacobn
Summary: Booth helps Bones get through the night.
1. 1 Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:** Listen, it's been a while since I've written any fanfiction. And I've never written anything for Bones. But I rewatched the entire series and realized I still have a lot of feelings for these two. This idea came to me in the middle of the night a while ago and I just decided to flesh it out and write it. I'm posting it because I don't know what else to do with it.

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**Stormy Weather**

Brennan woke suddenly in the middle of the night. Jolted upright, panic and fear racing through her veins as she gathered her surroundings. Her grip eased from the blankets clutched in her hands as her body slowly calmed itself down and she became more aware.

She was safe. She was in her home, in her bed, surrounded by her belongings. _It must've been a dream_, she thought, lowering herself back down to her bed and cursing herself for getting so worked up over it. She slowly began to drift back into a peaceful slumber when the flash lit up her room. She knew what was next - the loud crack with the rumble tapering off to silence again. She counted - _One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi, Four Mississippi, Five Mississippi, Six Mi- _The lightning and thunder cut her off. _Six miles away_. She wondered if it was coming or going.

She knew it was irrational to be afraid of a storm. Only children were afraid of storms and she was definitely not a child anymore. She recalled being afraid as a child, but she hadn't been afraid of the storms as an adult. Not since her trip to Brazil a few years ago. She had traveled to Brazil alone - like so many of her other trips - to help identify the remains of victims from the mudslides. She had been informed that the surrounding area was still considered to be a danger, that the storms could change direction, that she too could become a victim. But they also said it was an unlikely chance and that she would be safe from any dangers. Every scientist will explain that nature and weather can be extremely unpredictable. She knew that she would be smart to be overly cautious. She over planned and over-prepared herself for the worst-case scenarios. But she wasn't prepared for the weather to change the way that it had. She wasn't prepared to travel closer to the storms than originally expected. But no one tells Temperance Brennan what she can and can't do - especially if it is to help a victim or victim's family.

Her last day in Brazil found her face to face with monsoon rains, fresh mudslides, and thunderstorms that went on for hours. Numerous times she found herself being pulled away from the camp by the mud and rain. But every time she was able to grab ahold of something or someone and pull herself back to safety. It was dusk when she lost her footing and began to slip into a dangerous area, panic rose in her chest as she reached for the closest thing she could find - a bush. As she used it to pull her weight up the hill and out of the mud and debris, the bush uprooted, sliding down with her. She yelled for help - screamed so loud her throat burned - but over the sounds of the thunder and rain, it was hard to hear anything. At some point, the camp disappeared from her vision and she had lost all her tools and equipment. She was slammed into a tree, which she was able to wrap her body around and keep herself from moving farther away. Her head hurt, she eyes burned from the dirt and mud, she was terrified for her life, and she felt her resolve and strength slipping from her each moment that passed. It felt like days, but she was told that she was only missing for 16 hours. Someone at the camp realized she was gone, called the cavalry, and the search party began before the storm had even ended. She was on a flight back home within hours of being located and cleared by paramedics. They had advised her to not travel so soon with the concussion and other traumas. She promised to go to the hospital in America once she landed. She just needed to be home, she needed to feel safe. She had never been more afraid in her life.

Now, every storm resulted in the same terrified panic. She needed to feel safe again. Every storm that struck forced her to seek shelter and safety differently. Sometimes she was driving home from the lab late at night, sometimes she was sitting in the diner enjoying breakfast, sometimes it struck her at home - all the places she once considered safe suddenly felt terrifying. But every single time she found herself in a panic from the storm, it didn't matter where she was, she could always find that safety in _someone_.

Instinctively, she picked up her phone and recalled a number from memory. She tried to count the seconds she waited to distract herself from the storm outside.

"Booth." His voice was heavy with sleep and she instantly regretted calling him. She wasn't aware of the time. She wasn't even sure how to respond yet, the fear was paralyzing. She hadn't thought of what she should say or how to explain herself. He always just seemed to know when she needed him.

She willed herself to talk. To say anything. Literally anything to him. But she couldn't find her voice. Thunder echoed through her apartment again, louder than before. She squeezed her eyes closed as tears threatened to fall.

"Hello?" He asked again, this time more alert. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sounds came out. "Bones?" She nodded her head as if he could see her. Her breathing became more labored as her partner waited for the response she couldn't give. "Are you okay?"

A few moments passed, she could hear him rustling around on the other end of the phone. She worried for a moment that he had dropped the phone in bed or that he forgot about her on the other end of the line. But then his voice filled her ears: "I'm on my way Bones, just hang on."

He had known about his partner's experience - after all, he was the one they called from her camp. He wasn't aware that she placed him as her medical proxy. He knew they had an unspeakable amount of trust, but this spoke volumes to how she truly felt about him. A doctor there had explained that she may have some PTSD from the experience, despite her attempts to fool everyone into thinking she was fine. Booth knew she would be fine physically, and he knew that she thought she would be fine emotionally. He wasn't a stranger to PTSD and how it sneaks up on you just when you least expect it too.

His apartment was approximately 6.34 miles from her apartment. With the storm and the current time of night, he was able to make it to her apartment quickly without any problems. He used his spare key to let himself in. He stepped out of his shoes, shrugged off his wet jacket, and abandoned his keys, phone, and wallet on the kitchen counter. He knew his way around her apartment in the dark, and if anyone asked he would say it was due to his military training. But he knew that it was because he had been over to her place more times than he could count on one hand.

He approached her room cautiously. He didn't want to startle her and scare her any more than she already was. He tapped softly on the door frame and peeked around the corner into her room. She was sitting with her back against the wall when he found her - legs pulled up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees, the blanket wrapped tightly around her legs. Her eyes were fixed on an unknown object in the distance. His heart ached at the sight of her so afraid - his partner was usually fearless and in control.

"Hey Bones," he whispered softly as he approached her bed. He was cautious not to startle her and cause more fear. She didn't notice him until he sat on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight, spilling her body towards his. She looked over at him, eyes glazed and threatened to release the built-up tears. Booth read the panic her eyes held.

"You came?" Her trembling hands reached for his, gripping on to him tightly as thunder rang out around them again.

"I'm here." He replied unsure if she was asking a question or making a statement.

"I tried to sleep." She began to explain. "I tried the breathing exercises, and-and the counting, b-but then it was so loud and it woke me up and I just couldn't move and I just kept thinking about..." her voice trailed off with the realization that she might say more than she wanted.

"It's okay." He smiled warmly at her, hoping to provide some comfort. He brushed some stay hairs away from her face. "I'm here, you're safe."

"I took the medication from Sweets." Her voice breaking into a choked sob. Booth knew how hard it was for her to reach the point of taking medication, and then having to admit that she had taken something. He recalled Sweets writing her a prescription for Xanax to help specifically and only for this kind of a situation after she returned. Brennan was against the idea of having prescription narcotics in her home and exclaimed she wouldn't even fill the order. But she had the medication in the back of the medicine cabinet as a precaution, even if she had never intended to use it. "It didn't work." She confessed. Panic still evident in her voice.

"It'll take some time to work, babe." His arm had reached around her small frame and was holding her close to him.

"I don't like this." She admitted, clutching his hoodie as lightning lit up her room again. Although the timing of her comment would indicate that she was referring to the stormy weather outside, Booth understood the double meaning that she had taken the medication.

"Do you want to try to get some sleep now with me here?"

She nodded her head slowly and pulled herself away from his body, retreating slightly back to her side of the bed. Booth stood to remove his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He shrugged off his hoodie and held it out for her, knowing it would offer even more comfort and security for her. She slipped it over her head and adjusted it slightly so it would fit comfortably on her smaller body. Booth crawled into the bed and settled into space next to her as she watched him intently. Once she knew he was comfortable, she tentatively lowered herself into the mattress next to him. She felt his arm wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him so her back was against his chest.

The minutes passed slowly. He was waiting for her to fall asleep before allowed himself to sleep. He knew she was still too tense and with every flash of lightning, she'd hold her breath until the thunder passed. Booth cursed himself for not closing the blinds before laying down. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest and wondered exactly when the Xanax would kick in to give her some relief. The next wave of thunder brought on heavier rain that could be heard splashing against the window and roof. Booth could feel her shaking slightly against him and realized he needed to do more to help her or she wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon.

"Bones," He whispered as he slowly unraveled his arms from her grip and started to turn her to face him. "Rollover, babe."

"Okay." Was all she said. Booth's heart ached at how small she sounded and appeared to be right now. She turned so she was facing him, her legs still curled and mixed in with his. He waited until she settled before pulling the hood of his hoodie up over her head, hoping this would help block out some of the lightning flashes. Thunder echoed through the room and she instinctively grabbed at his shirt and her breathing picked up again.

"It's okay," he kissed her forehead, "you're okay." His arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer, creating a cocoon around her. She tucked her head under his chin and let out a long shaky breath. Booth continued to whisper to her and gently rubbed her back.

The scent of Booth surrounding her, the Xanax, and his rhymic heartbeat was working on slowly pulling her into a heavy sleep. Eventually, her fists loosened the grip on his shirt and she became lax in his arms. Booth sighed and finally allowed himself to close his own eyes and fall asleep.

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Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and also let me know if you want more...?


	2. 2 The Morning After

**AN: This didn't go quite how I imagined it to go - but hey, that's fiction, right? Anyway, here's the next chapter/section/installment. I feel like I'll be adding more to this... eventually. :) **

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It was still early when Booth woke up the next morning. His arm numb from the weight of his partner crushing it - but she was still curled into him, hooded sweatshirt and all. She looked peaceful and content, the exact opposite of how he found her the night before. The effects of the Xanax still clearly evident.

He allowed himself to bask in this moment of her in his arms before facing his first dilemma of the day - should he sneak out or stay? It is true that they've spent many evenings together that carried on well into the next day. But those nights were case driven, they were together because they were tracking someone down or sorting through evidence and paperwork. In other words, they had a reason to be together. The last storm that came through, was during the afternoon, and so his presence wasn't needed much longer after the storm ended. His presence was merrily there to provide the assurance that she was not in Brazil and that she was not being swept away by a monsoon mudslide. Of course, they never spoke of these things afterward. Temperance Brennan was the equivalent of Fort Knox when it came to her feelings - good or bad. In fact, she was so removed from the situation that when Booth asked if she was okay, she responded by spouting off scientific facts about storms and weather patterns. When Sweets brought it up in one of their sessions, she refused to talk about it, as it had "no relevance on the working partnership" they shared. Booth could accept this logic, for now.

But, this morning, he had so many questions. Laying in her bed, in his boxers, with her wearing his hoodie and curled up in his arms. He could sneak out, pretend like it never happened, and check-in with her at lunch to see how she was doing. Or he could stay right where he was and try to control the damage when she woke up. He would need to get back to his place at some point before showing up to work - to shower and change. Regardless of either option, this was the closest and most vulnerable she'd ever been with him. It was hard to hide the growing feelings he had in his heart for her. But he knew she wouldn't be giving him a chance any time soon. He was constantly reminding himself that this - whatever it is that they shared - stopped abruptly at just friends.

Booth's cell phone rang from the other room. He slowly and carefully untangled himself from his partner and quickly made his way to his phone.

Brennan woke slowly as she felt the warmth leave her bed. Still feeling slightly groggy and not as refreshed as she'd hoped. She could hear his voice from the other room - short, quick, and still professional - it was the tone he used for work calls. It was different from the way he would talk to her; patient, understanding, caring.

She could make out his jeans on the floor and for a moment started to panic. She wouldn't have - could she?! Sleeping with Booth would be one of the best and one of the dumbest things she could do for herself. Angie referred to it as a 'catch 22,' which Brennan didn't understand how 22 had to do with any of this. The FBI had a strict protocol about dating agents and she knew that if she were to cross the line with Booth, they'd both lose their jobs. She wasn't prepared to be the reason Booth lost his job with the FBI.

Booth re-entered the room, quietly as to not disturb Brennan but finding her already sitting up and awake. "Sorry if I woke you," he smiled softly at her.

"It's okay." Brennan stretched her arms and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll wash this and get it back to you."

"Keep it." Booth smiled. He knew she already had a few of his other hoodies. "We caught a case. I'll come back in an hour to pick you up, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Brennan gave Booth a forced smile and busied herself with making the bed.

"You okay?" Booth walked over to the side of the bed where she was tucking the sheets in. He knew she wasn't always a morning person, but this felt much more distant than normal. She almost seemed like she was still out of it. Booth hoped it was just the Xanax from the night before and not because of him.

"I'm fine, Booth." She pushed past him and headed towards her bathroom. "Can you please lock up on your way out?"

"Okay," He sighed, defeated and unsure how to make things right. "See you in an hour."

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_Later in the day..._

Brennan had successfully managed to avoid Booth for most of the day. The case they were called in for was ruled out as a suicide and not murder. This freed up both of their schedules and allowed for Brennan to work quietly and alone in her office for most of the day. She was able to finish a stack of paperwork that Booth would need for closed cases, reviewed other documents, worked on research for articles, and she even wrote more for her next novel. No one had really bothered her as the rest of her team was also working quietly on other projects.

It was late in the afternoon now, and she looked forward to getting out of the Jeffersonian early to enjoy a glass of wine from the comforts of her couch. She looked up as her office door swung open.

"Dr. Sweets? What are you doing here? Booth should have told you that there is no case."

"You've been avoiding me."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, I have done no such thing." She stood from her desk. She knew where this was going because she had been, truthfully, ignoring Sweets.

"I've left you a few voicemails and emails and haven't heard back from you. Neither has Booth. So I thought maybe it would be best that I come to you myself."

"I have been busy with paperwork and such. You should understand that, after all, it is the FBI paperwork I was doing." Not a complete lie.

"Dr. Brennan, I think we both know why I'm here now and why I've been trying to contact you all day." He sat down in the armchair and made himself comfortable. "Come sit. Let's talk."

"But I don't have anything to talk about." She still complied with his offer and sat across from him on the couch.

"Sure you do." He smiled politely. He knew that she didn't believe in psychology and he knew her walls were going to be up, but he also knew that this would be for the best for her. "You remember when I wrote you that prescription for Xanax, correct?"  
"I do remember," Brennan replied focusing on her hands.

"So then you also would remember that I said if you ever took any, that I wanted to have a session to talk about it."

"Yes, I remember. But I-"

"I know you filled the script." Sweets cut her off. "And I want you to know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"Great, so then why do we need to talk?"

"Why are you avoiding Booth today?"

"I'm not." She continued to focus on her hands, the hem of her sleeves, the fibers in the couch fabric - anything but Sweet.

"There was a pretty nasty storm last night. How did you handle that?"

"I didn't hear anything last night." She lied as the previous night's events flashed back into her memory. Things she was trying to desperately forget about, were now back in the front of her mind.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets was about to go into one of his lectures on PTSD and traumatic events and how it's okay to ask for help, but when Brennan finally looked up at him and saw the pain and fear in her eyes, he knew he had to take a different approach.

"I just don't know that I can talk about it." She admitted to her colleague.

"It?" Sweets questioned. "Are you referring to the storm or are you referring to the fact that you used Xanax?"

"Both. I think."

"Okay." He nodded sympathetically. "But you realize the only way to fully heal after a trauma is to do the work to get through it. You can't just ignore it and it goes away."

"Sometimes it can." Brennan shrugged. Sweets wouldn't believe that her shell, her demeanor was cracking like this in front of him. He knew that she understood PTSD and that she didn't believe what she was even saying to him - even if she didn't believe in psychology, she knew she was trying to pulling something from nothing.

"Why don't you tell me about last night. Whatever you were thinking, feeling, doing. Just walk me through everything."

"Well. I had gone home after Booth and I had dinner at the diner. Parker wanted to talk to Booth, so we ate quickly and parted ways. I got home, it had just started to rain outside. I forgot to check the weather in the morning. But sometimes the rain, it doesn't always bother me. When It does, I can just put on my headphones and listen to music as I fall asleep or continue working. Last night it didn't bother me much because I had had a glass of wine with dinner, so I was feeling good. I stayed up working on my novel for a while, just until I finished the revision notes from my editor. Then I went to bed."

"Go on," Sweets urged.

"I got ready for bed and that's when I heard the thunder. It was quiet, low, almost missed it. I tried to ignore it, I could pretend that it was a garbage truck or semi-truck outside."

"Did that work? This pretending?" Sweets interjected.

"I also used the counting and breathing exercises," Brennan continued ignoring Sweets. "I was able to fall asleep before the storm got close." Brennan prayed that he stopped there. She knew he wouldn't but she could still hope.

"Were you able to stay asleep throughout the entire storm?" Sweets was jotting things on his notepad and waiting for Brannan to answer. She couldn't lie to him, but she didn't want to admit the rest of the night. She didn't want to admit that she needed help, or that she resulted to the Xanax, or even that she called Booth and wasn't able to finally relax until he was in bed next to her. "Dr. Brennan?"

"No." It came out as a whisper. She cursed herself for how weak she sounded and continued to focus on the ground, hoping that would keep the tears at bay until Sweets left.

"What happened when you woke up?"

"Um," Brennan cleared her throat. "I tried to count again. That helped. But I still couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep. So after a while, I tried the medication."

"You took a Xanax." Sweets confirmed. "Did that help?"

"No. Well, yes, but not until…" Brennan looked up at Sweets - her friend, her colleague, and currently her therapist and wondered how much she wanted to reveal. "The medication took a while to work."

"It's not instant." Sweets reminded her.

"I needed it to be."

"How did you feel after taking the Xanax?"

"I just told you that it didn't work like I thought it would."

"No, I meant in general, how did you feel? You had been opposed to filling the prescription, and I'm surprised to hear that you did take the medication."

"I was desperate. It was late and I needed to get some sleep."

"I see." Sweets jotted some notes. "So after you took the Xanax, and you were waiting for that to start working, what did you do?"

"I…" Brennan trailed off. She still wasn't certain if she wanted Sweets to know that she brought Booth into all of this.

"Here's what I think happened," Sweets began, pausing to see if she would take over or object. When she didn't, he continued, "I think that you wanted to try to handle this on your own, like you have in the past. Only last night's storm was too much to handle on your own, and so you broke down and used the help of the Xanax. Since this is the first time you've willingly taken medication like Xanax, you were alarmed when the effects weren't immediate and that only added to your already high level of anxiety from the storm and taking a narcotic. Am I right?"

Brennan just nodded her head. "And I know that you turn to one person whenever things get too hard to handle on your own."

"Booth." She whispered. Her heart suddenly ached and she felt a strong desire to be near him at that moment.

"Yes, Booth. But I'm curious, why didn't you just call Booth first? Why put yourself through the ordeal of taking Xanax when you have strong feelings against drugs?"

"It was really late. And I wanted to try to fix it on my own."

"Perhaps, we've learned a few things from last night. The first is that it's okay to admit when you need help or when you are feeling like you need help. Even if that help is something like Xanax that you have a strong stance against using. Nothing bad happened, right? You got to sleep, you woke up this morning, everything is fine."

"You are correct."

"I think we've also learned that Booth is always there for you - even if it's during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night."

"He's never let me down," Brennan admitted and started to feel bad for avoiding him all day.

"No, he hasn't. But you keep pushing him away. I bet you did that this morning, I bet you've pushed him away all day and he's left messages as I have throughout this day. Why are you pushing him away?"

"I," she swallowed hard, trying to hold back her tears. "I'm embarrassed."

"But we have already discussed that it's okay to need help and it's okay to ask for help."

"I am not helpless. I don't want to seem like a helpless woman that he has to save. I'm not a victim, I'm not hurt, I'm not incapable of handling things on my own…" her voice was rasing slowly in an effort to suppress her emotions. If she could get angry about it, she wouldn't be able to cry about it.

"Temperance," he said softly. "You aren't helpless and you don't need saving. But you were a victim of a natural disaster, which still warrants emotional pain. You may have walked away physically healthy and in one piece, but you can still be hurting in here," Sweets tapped his chest where his heart is. "And there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling afraid or hurt."

"I don't want to be." The tears were falling now. "I don't want to scare him away because I do care about him."

"I know you do." Sweets smiled at his friend. He knew she was working through some things but he was confident that she was on the right track.

Just as Brennan was about to say something, her office down swung open and Booth walked through smiling and laughing at something Hodgens just said or did just outside her office.

"Agent Booth," Sweets looked up. "Perfect timing."

"What's wrong? Bones?" Booth moved to her side immediately.

"We were just finishing a session." Sweets stood, gathering his items in one swift motion.

"Why is she crying?" Booth looked angrily at Sweets.

"Booth, I'm fine." Brennan reached for his hand to divert his attention.

"You don't seem fine." Booth kneeled in front of her, brushing stray hairs away from her tear-stained face.

"I will be," I replied with a sad smile.

"Okay, how about some dinner?"

"That sounds great, actually." Brennan stood from the couch and wiped her face of any remaining wet tears.

"The Diner?" Booth questioned, she nodded her head and let him guide her out of her office.

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**AN: Review/comment... let me know if you liked it or if I should stop while I'm ahead!**


	3. 3 Evening Reveals

**AN: This has not been edited. Reviews always welcome :)**

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Booth did his best to get her mind off of whatever had upset her earlier with Sweets. Throughout dinner, he told stories about Parker, told his cheesiest jokes, even tried to explain a few science puns to her. She would laugh, smile, ask questions, and carry the conversation - but she was still distant. Booth couldn't think of anything else to do to get that sparkle back in her eye. He had just one more option left to try - but he wanted to wait until the last moment when they'd have a little more privacy than the diner.

Brennan tried to relax and forget about … everything. She could see that Booth was going out of his way to really lighten the mood. But she had things she wanted to say to him. She just didn't want to say them to him while they were in the diner.

The ride home was painfully silent. Brennan looked out the passenger window for the majority of the ride, completely unable to formulate the words she wanted to say. It was sprinkling and the water drops sticking to the window drew up some slight panic that there was a storm lurking. She focused on making a mental list of the things she wanted to say to Booth in an effort to distract her mind from overanalyzing the situation.

"Hey, Bones," Booth finally broke the silence after parking the car near her apartment.

"Hmmm?" She turned to look at her partner.

"We're here." Booth smiled warmly at her.

'Oh," she nervously laughed and gathered her items.

"You okay?" His simple question had many hidden meanings behind it, most of the meanings weren't conveyed to Brennan. He was concerned about her meeting with Sweets, the current rain, her general demeanor today.

"Yeah," she looked up from the pile of things in her lap that she was organizing. "Thanks, Booth."

"I'll walk you up."  
"No, it's been a long day for you. I'm sure you just wanna get home and relax. I'll be fine."

"Don't be ridiculous." Booth laughed. "C'mon." He jumped out of his seat and went around to her door, opening it for her and taking some of the things to free up her hands. She hesitated for a moment, but then let him help her.

Once inside, Booth set her things on the table and watched as she methodically took off her purse, jacket, shoes, and then locked the door behind them. He suspected that this was out of habit because she had never been overly cautious with checking and locking doors whenever she was with him.

"My place isn't really that clean," Brennan quickly made herself busy by straightening up and trying to tidy up her small apartment.

"It's fine." Booth smiled. "I was here last night and this morning." Booth chuckled as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt nervous. Her energy always rubbed off on him, and he could feel that she was on edge.

"Shit. I can't imagine what you think of me… this place is a mess…" Brennan hurried into the kitchen.

"Heyyy," Booth caught her by the arm and stopped her from reaching her destination. "Can you do me a favor?" He asked softly looking down at her features - she looked tired, mentally exhausted, but still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"Yeah, sure, anything."

"Just relax, okay? It's just you and me here. I don't care if _Anthropologie Today_ is laying out on the coffee table or if there is an empty glass on the kitchen counter. I do care about you. And I can tell that last night was difficult, that session with Sweets looked like it was difficult, and now with this rain, I know you are feeling anxious. But you and me. This, we should not be difficult."

"Booth," she sighed and let her forehead fall to his chest. What she needed was a hug, to feel close to him again. She wanted to feel safe again. But she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to just hug him because she needed it. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. A calmness fell over her as she felt his arms wrap around her body and pull her closer to him. Deep inhale, slow exhale. Repeat.

She could feel her wall coming down. Brennan knew that this was the wrong time and place for walls to come down. But she didn't think she could control it this time. She put up these defenses for a reason. If she let people in and if she let people close, then she got hurt. That's what life had taught her over and over and over again. She did a good job keeping the people in her life at an arm's length, learning to depend on only herself, and it's kept her safe. However, Booth's patience with her, his softness towards her completely dissolved her defenses.

He could always read her. By now he knew how she would react to certain situations, he knew how she would respond in conversations, he could even sometimes predict her little physical ticks that went unnoticed by others. The way she'd tuck her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, or when her right knee bounced whenever she was anxious, how she'd avoid eye contact when she was uncertain or afraid. But lately, she'd been doing all that and more, throwing his abilities to read her way off course. He had always wanted nothing more than to break through that last bit of her barrier that kept him away. Booth loved this woman, without hesitation, without any doubt. And he knew in the depths of his own heart, she loved him back. Sweets had been constantly reminding Booth that "in time it'll all work out." It broke his heart to see her struggling like this over something like rain and thunder.

"I'm sorry." She pulled away from him after a few moments.

"There's absolutely nothing to be sorry about." He tried to reassure her but knew it didn't reach her as she brushed past him into the kitchen.

"Did you want to stay awhile? Do you want a drink?" Trying desperately to hold on to her last shred of dignity and keep her emotions in check.

"I can stay for a drink," Booth smiled. He had nowhere else to be and if he was honest, he would just be going back to his place to have a drink alone.

"Wine? Beer? Water?" She was already pouring herself a full glass of wine.

"I'll have a beer." He already knew where they were in the fridge, so he helped himself.

They made themselves comfortable on the couch. Brennan sat on the smaller sofa, the bottle of wine and her wine glass on the coffee table. Booth sat opposite her, on the bigger sofa, with his feet resting on the edge of the coffee table. Normally, Brennan would object to this behavior, but she also was not her true self these days. They spent the evening chatting about cases, the squints, and then after a couple more glasses of wine Brennan tried telling some jokes she learned from Hodgens. Booth knew she was trying to cover up the crack in her armor with the alcohol. Normally he wouldn't advise using alcohol to hide or cover up an issue, but he wanted to give her a break. He figured that she was already safe at home, so there was no harm in letting her relax and let go. Besides, he had cut himself off a long time ago to be able to take care of any situation that may come up.

"Booth, can I ask you something?" Brennan suddenly became serious. She swirled the last of the wine in her cup.

"What's on your mind?" He shifted in his place on the couch so his feet were now on the ground, and he was leaning forward on his knees.

"Sweets said that I have PTSD." Her voice was heavy with emotion and she tried her hardest to keep everything locked up as tightly as possible. It was more of a statement than a question, and Booth wanted to give her the time to ask her question - if she had one. "What-" she started to ask at the same time as a sob escaped. Booth was next to her in an instant. "What do you think?" She finally whispered out as the tears fell freely. He took her glass from her and set it on the coffee table and grabbed her hands as she shook in her lap.

"That's a very real possibility."

"But I don't understand." She sniffled. Booth rubbed her back slowly, still holding her hands with his free one. " I-I like Sweets but he's very pushy. I don't like it."

"You don't like psychology, we know.." Booth chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little but she didn't laugh. "You don't like feeling so exposed."

Brennan only nodded and pulled a hand away to wipe her tears.

"It might take some time but you will get through this. PTSD can be tricky, but you're doing the time with Sweets and he will definitely be able to help you get through it."

"When will it get better? I can't do this every time it rains, every time it storms, it's just too hard to manage it all. I can't sleep at night, I can't be alone when a storm hits at work or on a case without feeling like I'm going to lose it."

"Everyone's process is different. You may always have a trigger that sets you off." Booth tried to explain it in a simplified way - the way it was once explained to him. "And hey, most of the time you are with me, so I can help you through the hard times. And if you want, I can come to a few sessions with you."

"You really think I will be okay? Because it doesn't feel like I will ever be."

"I wouldn't lie to you. I know you are going to be fine." Booth smiled and pulled her closer to him.

"Okay," she let out a shaky breath and fell into his chest and letting her head fall to his shoulder.

"How about I help you get into bed? I can clean up before I head out."

"No," Brennan sat up quickly and grabbed for his hand. "Please don't go."

"You sure you want me to stay?"

"Yes. Please." She was practically begging him, which was surprising because it wasn't storming, just a light drizzle out. It wasn't even audible from inside her apartment.

"Okay," he smiled, "I will stay. You know I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Booth." She replied with a sad smile that quickly faded.


	4. 4 The Wrong Storm

**AN: As usual, this is not edited. Sorry for the delay in posting, I had some trouble trying to figure out where to go with this. **

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It had been weeks since Brennan and Booth had been able to spend much time together. Just occasional dinners at the diner, meeting for drinks, and lunch here and there. Brennan's response to dealing with emotional stress had always been to avoid it and wait for it to disappear. A few evenings she avoided going back to her place alone because it was raining. The Jeffersonian was considered a safe place; a safety bubble that could protect her from the storm. She knew Booth was always just a phone call away, and if he knew she was spending entire nights locked up in the safety of her office, he would drag her out of there immediately. But this was her way of managing things without the narcotics. Sweets was supportive of her finding alternative ways to handle and prevent attacks.

There was some FBI matter that Booth had to take care of in another state. Not a full case that needed Brennan and her team's expertise, but it was enough to keep Booth away for a few days. The weather predicted clouds and sun, and possible storms one night. Brennan decided it would be best to just deal with it when it happened - IF it happened. She had become very good at compartmentalizing in other departments of her life, this should be just as easy to compartmentalize.

Sweets had been checking in with her every other day even when Booth was around. Booth had even requested to talk with Sweets alone about how he could help Brennan through this. But at this point, it was hard to tell when something would trigger a PTSD panic attack. They knew storms, heavy rain, thunder, and lightning would all trigger some kind of response. But the severity of the attack was always unknown. Sweets understood how bad she had previously experienced an attack - the very first time anything close to a trigger happened, they were in his office discussing a case. The crack of thunder outside came unexpectedly and it took Sweets almost an hour to coax the scientist out from the small coat closet where she tried to escape the storm. Sweets sent a text to Booth during the attack; his response, of course, was to break the door down. But once Brennan had heard Booth's voice, once she was certain he was on the other side of that closet door, she was out of the closet and shaking in his arms faster than a bolt of lightning. Of course, Sweets made them both stay and talk about what just happened. And this was when they both learned just how serious her PTSD really was. Sweets wrote her the prescription then and there.

After that night, there was only a handful of times when Brennan called Booth. Sometimes she just wanted to talk on the phone with him until the rain let up, other times she had more serious attacks and Booth came over to be with her. Usually, they stayed on the couch, watching a movie or some other mindless show, until the storm passed or Brennan fell asleep. But the last storm, which brought Booth into her bed with her, changed things for Brennan. She missed him. Her pillow smelled of him, the hoodie he left her smelled of him, she missed feeling his arms around her. She determined that these feelings for him came out of the vulnerability from taking the Xanax. _Just another reason to not take it_, she'd think to herself.

Tonight, she was determined to get through the storm on her own. Even if it killed her. Which she seemed to think was a very real possibility.

She left the Jeffersonian early and picked up some dinner on her way home. Sweets had already called her asking how she felt with the 80% chance of storms in the evening lasting well into the morning hours. She poured a very full glass of wine and simply told Sweets that she wasn't worried at all.

The sky grew darker quicker than usual that evening, the storm clouds had really forced the sun away. When it started to rain, Brennan found herself getting slightly panicked, but found that turning the volume up on her tv and closing the blinds helped. She found herself distracted with the tv for quite some time, unaware of the storm outside. She got up to pour herself another glass of wine when the power flickered. Brennan could feel her heart rate quicken and the hand that was pouring the wine started to shake. Once she finished pouring, she decided to put on Booth's hoodie, hoping that it would help calm her nerves. This was a last-ditch effort before breaking down and calling him. She made her way back to the couch, wine in hand she took a few large gulps before settling back down into the couch.

After a short while, the wine was making her limbs feel fuzzy and her head heavy. She was close to falling asleep on the couch when the storm cut the power completely. Brennan sat straight up, the buzz completely leaving her body as the adrenaline surged through her veins. It wasn't until the lightning flashed again that she realized she had been holding her breath. Her eyes darted around the living room for a safe place to hide. Before the next thunder, she wedged herself down under the kitchen table. She then began her counting and breathing exercises. She was so lost in her own world of panic that she didn't hear her phone ringing in the pocket of the sweatshirt until the last ring.

"Hel-hello?" She stammered out breathlessly.

"Dr. Brennan, how are you doing?" Sweets cheerfully questioned.

"Um. I'm okay- yeah, I'm good. I am just, you know, watching a movie." She lied. She didn't think he'd notice the heavy breathing and fear-filled voice.

"Dr. B, please don't lie, I can tell that you aren't doing okay. Did you do the breathing and counting exercises I taught you?"

"I'm trying." SHe replied, closing her eyes to prevent more tears.

"Have you taken a Xanax?" He started packing up to leave his office, he knew that she was on the verge of really freaking out, and knew he could help her more in person.

"I-I can't,"

"Sure you can. Remember what happened last time? It helped you get to sleep, it didn't do anything bad."  
"I drank wine," Brennan admitted and almost started crying. She knew that mixing alcohol and Xanax wasn't a great idea.

"Okay." Sweets sighed. He knew she'd probably be okay taking a Xanax after drinking but he would rather have someone with her just in case she did have issues. "Have you talked to Booth?"

"No," she cried at the mention of his name and seeing a flash of lightning. "I don't want to bother-" then only seconds later, thunder echoed all around. It was the kind of thunder that shook the building, rattling the windows, sending vibrations through the floorboards. It was loud enough to startle any regular person. She jumped and dropped the phone to the floor. She hadn't experienced such a strong storm since leaving Brazil and its power was making things harder for her to overcome. Sweets was already on his way to her apartment when she dropped the phone. When she didn't pick up, he called Booth, who was already heading her way from the airport. He had also tried to call her multiple times, but each call went straight to her voicemail.

Brennan closed her eyes. She tried to think of happy things - somewhere safe, somewhere she was content and not afraid of something ridiculous as a storm. Her mind took her straight to Booth. It didn't matter where they were, he had the ability to calm her nerves and make her feel safe. Even if they were sprinting towards someone shooting at them, or barreling down the road at a high speed, she always knew she was safe with Booth next to her. She didn't realize how hard she was crying until it became hard to breathe. Her nose was stuffed up from crying, her tears blurred her vision, and she gasped for air in between sobs. Panic began to take over. She cried harder as she attempted to find a way to breathe.

Booth pushed through the apartment door with Sweets on his heels. Had it been minutes? Hours? Brennan couldn't tell. She had tunnel vision and was currently focusing on her limited field of vision shrinking rapidly. Booth found her first and knelt down to the ground to be eye level with her. He almost started crying seeing his partner so upset.

"She's hyperventilating," Booth announced.

"Where would she keep the medication?" Sweets questioned while quickly searching kitchen cupboards for a glass.

"Bathroom, medicine cabinet, top shelf, behind the lotion bottle. Glasses are in the cupboard by the stove, left side, bottom shelf." Booth didn't care if Sweets questioned his intimae knowledge of where things were in her apartment - he'd deal with that later.

"Bones," he reached for her hands but stopped. He didn't want to startle her more, but he would have to get her out from under the table to get her to calm down. "Hey babe, it's me, it's Booth." She didn't seem to register that he was even next to her.

"Sometimes a gentle touch can bring their focus to the present and out of the panic." Sweets was now standing behind Booth, giving them space, but available for support if needed. Booth nodded and tried again.

"Temperance, you are safe." This time Booth used her name that was often reserved for family and official matters, none of her friends used that name for her. He reached out and laid his hand over hers, his other hand slowly landed on her back. The contact caused Brennan to jump, but look over to see Booth.

"Booth-" she could barely get it out, a wave of relief brought on more crying as she still struggled to breathe.

"Come' ere," he sighed and glanced up at Sweets as he all but dragged her out from the table. Sweets reapproached with a single pill and a glass of water. "Dr. B, this is going to help, okay?"

"No, no-" she pushed Sweets away. She was still sitting on the floor, leaning against Booth

"I promise that you will be fine. You are so worked up right now, and I know you don't want to feel like this."

"I don't… want…." she struggled against the two men for a short while.

"Bones we are trying to help," Booth said from behind her, he was still supporting the majority of her weight.

"Booth?" She turned her head to see him, forgetting completely that he had been there the whole time.

"It's me," he smiled at her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Why don't you take the medicine, drink some of the water, and we go into the bedroom and calm down, yeah?"

"Okay," Brennan admitted defeat. Sweets was astounded by the fact that Booth had such a level of control of her. In all his years as a psychologist, he had never seen someone relinquish their own self-control to another person so quickly. Brennan took the pill and the glass of water from Sweets. Her hands were still shaking and her breathing was still slightly labored, but she was better than she was when Booth found her.

"Let's go into the other room now," Booth stood up and reached down to help her stand up. Brennan was able to stand up on her own, but as soon as she started to walk her knees buckled. Booth caught her before she hit the ground, Sweets rushed over to help but Booth had already picked her up and began carrying her to the bedroom.

Sweets stayed behind, rinsing the cup in the sink, this part felt slightly more personal than earlier and he didn't want to intrude.

"Let me get rid of Sweets, okay?" Booth whispered to Brennan as he laid her down on her bed.

"Please don't leave me," she started to cry again.

"Hey," he said softly and sat on the edge of her bed. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm just going into the other room for a minute." He brushed her hair from her face and left his hand to cup her cheek.

"K." She replied. Booth noticed her heart rate and breathing picked up, so he leaned down and kissed her forehead before standing and heading out to the living room.

Brennan waited a few moments before moving under her comforter. She rested her head on the pillow but her eyes remained alert and trained on the door. She could hear Booth and Sweets talking in the other room, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. And then after what felt like forever, Booth reemerged in the doorway. He didn't say anything as he prepared himself for bed. Brennan watched him adoringly until he slid in next to her. Instinctively he pulled her close.

"You feeling any better?" He asked her. She nodded her head but her bottom lip started to tremble.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as a tear made its way down her face.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Okay?" He squeezed her tightly. "Everything is okay now."

"Okay." She swallowed hard.

"Just close your eyes, listen to my voice, let the medicine do its thing…" Booth continued to talk to her about his trip until he felt her breathing slow and her head became heavy on his chest.

"This was the wrong storm for you to try to be strong, Bones." He kissed the top of her head and let sleep take him over.

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**AN: If you liked it, please leave a comment or review! :) Thanks for everyone who has left comments already - you are what keeps me going and adding more to this story!**


	5. 5 Determined

**Determined**

"I find that I've been acting irrationally and decided to stop," Brennan stated matter-of-factly.

"Bones, I told you that it's not a big deal." Booth appeared to be visibly more relaxed on the couch than his partner.

"I think what Booth is trying to say here is that it's okay to ask for help and there is nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to trauma and PTSD."

"Bones doesn't get embarrassed," Booth informed Dr. Sweets, who sat in a chair across from the partners on the couch.

"I'm not embarrassed," Brennan recoiled.

"It's okay to-"

"No, Agent Booth, this is good." Sweets held up his hand to interrupt Booth and then turned to Brennan. "What do you feel?"

"Well, clearly not embarrassment." She repeated, glaring at Booth and hoping to buy herself some time.

"Right, we've established that. Tell us what you do feel."

"Well, if I felt anything on this subject it would be foolish."

"Why is that?" Sweets pushed.

"It is a natural human emotion that one feels occasionally. I find that this is one of those times for myself."

"Dr. Brennan, I'd like for you to just take a minute and really think about why you are feeling the way that you do."

"Okay," Brennan suddenly felt more confused than foolish or embarrassed. What exactly was Sweets trying to get at? "Although, I don't think I will change my mind on the matter"

"Perhaps there are some other underlying emotions you haven't accepted. Maybe some feelings towards your partner?"

"Booth?" Brennan questioned Sweets. She was really not interested in this conversation continuing - especially with Booth sitting so close to her.

"Stop me when I'm wrong," Sweets pushed like he always did. Booth stayed relatively quiet and still, pleading to the gods above that he made it out of this room alive.

"You and Booth share a unique and closely tied relationship. You both are extremely protective of one another, you both look out for one another, you both are secretly harboring feelings for one another." Sweets paused long enough to catch his breath. "Up until a few weeks ago, the two of you were basically inseparable, in fact, Booth, you were staying over at her house for multiple nights in a row. That goes above and beyond the call of your partnership."

"Dr. Sweets, I don't like your implications-" Brennan interrupted.

"Only someone who is experiencing strong feelings, perhaps even feelings of love would be able to spend nights alone with a woman to protect her from her own fears."

"This is ridiculous." Brennan stood up, enraged and ready to fight the younger doctor.

"Bones, just...sit down…" Booth had no idea where Sweets was taking this, but he didn't like how it was starting to unfold.

"I will not just sit down!" Brennan yelled.

"Now, suddenly you are fine - you are healed of your PTSD and traumas and you don't need Booth anymore? I'm sorry, but I don't buy it, Dr. Brennan. In all my years of being a medical professional, trauma doesn't just go away because you feel irrational."

"In all your years?" Booth muttered sarcastically.

"Look, I don't need your pills or your advice or Booth to come fix my problems whenever I have them. I've gotten by just fine in my life by myself, I can continue to get by alone without either of you." Brennan stood up, turned to pick up her bag leaning against the couch at her feet. "And if you really need to know more about Booth, why don't you go talk to his new girlfriend and leave me out of it." She quickly turned on her heels and left, slamming the office door on her way out.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to do next.

"New girlfriend?" Sweets started.

"You know, I think I'm going to go check on her."

"Agent Booth…?" Sweets called out, but Booth was already out the door looking for his partner.

Brennan spent longer in the lab than she had originally planned. By avoiding Sweets and Booth, she had somehow managed to avoid most of her friends and colleagues in the lab. Now it was well into the evening when she realized she needed to still get dinner. She stood from her desk chair, stretching her tired limbs, and rolling her neck a bit. As she methodically tidied up her desk, placing files and papers in various places, and sliding her laptop into her bag she noticed someone lurking around the entryway of her office. Glancing at the clock she assumed it was security. There's no way Booth would be around this late - not now, not with his new girlfriend.

"Sweets?" She was taken back by the shadow's identity.

"Dr. B, I'm sorry for intruding-"

"I assure you that this is more of a surprise than an intrusion." Brennan adjusted the strap of her messenger bag hanging on her shoulder.

"I just wanted to check in with you after this morning. You stormed out quickly, and while I understand why, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright."

"Of course, I'm fine." Brennan started walking towards the exit. She had big plans for herself with Chinese carryout and a bottle of wine.

"Right." Sweets nodded. "Of course you are."

"I know you think that there is some sort of hidden shrink opportunity here, Sweets. But I'm fine. Booth has a right to date whoever he wants too. I turned him down and he moved on."

"Have you?" Sweets pushed open the door to the parking garage and held it open for Brennan.

"Have I moved on?" She clarified the question. Sweets nodded but knew she couldn't see his response. After a few moments of silent walking, Brennan stopped and turned to Sweets. "He is my best friend. I hurt him once. I can't hurt him a second time."

"How are you managing your PTSD and fear of storms?" Sweets asked as she walked away from him.

"I don't have PTSD and it hasn't rained in weeks, Dr. Sweets. Your shrinky talk means nothing." Brennan turned to give Lance a smirking smile before getting into her car and leaving Sweets abandoned in the parking garage. She felt empowered. Even if it was false empowerment or pure luck, Brennan was determined to ride this out as long as she could. It also made her feel better about Booth's new dating life and the lack of his company.

Brennan had long ago stopped paying attention to the weather reports and updates. In the recent past, Booth or Sweets would always be overly attentive to her when they knew a storm was coming, so she paid attention to their behavior rather than the weather reports. Still, she had to wonder if this attention from Sweets meant a storm was brewing.

Tonight, she had gotten take-out, and with her bottle of red wine, she slowly made progress on her next novel. She put on her headphones, turned off her phone, and allowed herself to slip into her main character's mindset - leaving her own fears and concerns and safety of her world.

This book was different than her previous books, more light-hearted and romantic than serial killer and murder. It's not that she didn't enjoy her other novel's plotlines, she enjoyed them thoroughly. At the moment, what she really needed, was for her partner and best friend to be with her. Her realizations came out in her novel - she turned Booth away because she didn't know how to love, she pushed him away because she was afraid to even try and give him a chance. She was afraid because she knew that if she let him in, there was no turning back. If the relationship were to go south, she'd lose her partner and best friend permanently. Losing anyone close to her was already a tricky area to navigate. So she played it safe and allowed her fantasies and hopes and desires to come out through her writing. It was safer this way.

The glow from her laptop screen was the only light in her apartment. She leaned forward to the coffee table and attempted to refill her wine glass with the empty wine bottle. She huffed and moved her laptop to the side before standing quickly. The blanket in her lap fell to the ground covering her bare feet and reminding her body just how warm it was all curled up under the warmth of the laptop and blanket. She took off her headphones and closed her eyes when her ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of heavy rain on the window.

"I can do this," I muttered out loud to herself with a shaky deep breath. She reached for her phone and revealed the late-night hour. Even she was surprised that it was so late and she was still awake. She busied herself with saving her work and picking up her mess on the coffee table. These things could wait, but she found that when she distracted herself, she could ignore the rising panic from the current weather outside.

Brennan continued to busy herself in the kitchen - scrubbing the pans (again), wiping down the counter multiple times, mopping the floor. She knew she was being irrational and she knew that she would have to stop to go to sleep at some point. She just was hoping that the rain would dissipate before she crawled into bed. She decided, in a hasted effort, to self-medicate herself to sleep. She had a bottle of vodka in the freezer for the nights when Booth was over, or when Jack and Angie came by for game night. She was never a fan, but she knew it would help her potentially get to sleep.

As she quickly downed her second shot, she wondered what Sweet would say about this. She knew Booth wouldn't approve at all. She wondered what a sober-minded Brennan would say about this. Somewhere in the back of her brilliant mind, she knew this wasn't healthy and this wouldn't fix or help anything. But these desperate times called for some desperate measures. She swallowed those thoughts with another shot. But her thoughts of Booth lingered. She wondered if he was still awake with her watching a movie or having a late night drink. Perhaps he was already in bed with her. These thoughts burned in her head and played in a loop.

Without even realizing it, Brennan found herself sitting on the couch crying. Another rare sight of her - drunk, crying, and awake at 11:30 pm. She realized the one thing she needed right now was the one thing she couldn't have. She couldn't tell now if she was crying because of the rain and PTSD or if she was crying because she missed Booth.

She realized this was all ridiculous. Crying over a man? Crying over some rain? Suddenly she felt her mood shift from sad and afraid to angry and frustrated. She became determined to tell Booth and maybe Sweets exactly what was on her mind. She was sick and tired of being the one that needed saving and helping.


End file.
